The Washington critic., 1887-07-16
TO WIN HIS WAY.


early dawn, directing envelopes in her
cool little room for some dlngy office
down town, and how thankful she felt
when she took her work home, that
she was not obliged to write there all
day.
Twenty seven hundred, at So per
thousand-SS. 10. "Wait minute, l
want you to sign receipt, and | will
give you the money, said the gentle
manly clerk at the desk.
81 think you have made mistake,
sir" said the low, sweet voice of the
girl. "Here is the bill as | have made
II. l was to receive $3.50 per thous
and, and the whole amount Is SO. 10"
She gave him neatly written bit of
paper as she spoke, and the man for the
first time looked up and saw to whom
he was talking.
Annie Brown-littlc friend-little
playmate-is it possible that see you
here p he asked, reaching out an
eager hand to clasp the thin fingers
holding the paper slip. But the girl
drew back out of his reach and laid the
bill on the desk. She had recognized
her old time lover, her hearts idol and
hero, Greg Mcleod, before he saw her,
and only her terrible necessity for the
money at stake kept her from dropping
the papers and rushing out into the
street.
Her action reminded him Of the last
meeting and parting, far away among
the green hills of Hampton, when bit.
ter words were spoken on both sides
that sundered their lives, as they both
thought, forever.
He had accused her of flirting, be.
cause he caught her talking in earnest
whispers with Jason Morrill, more than
once, and when yelling his indignant
curiosity with light laugh, he asked !:
"What is up here2" Jason walked
away with an angry frown, while
Annie, forcing merriment as unreal
as his own, answered:
"Oh, It is a secret Never mind
now."
But he did mind, then and atterward.
Only few days later he saw them part
ing at her fathers gate, heard the
young man say anxiously; "You will
be sure to come :" and the girl answer
ed, gently II will, Jason, only be
patient and say nothing"
Then his pent.up wrath bubbled
over, and, striding up to the quiet girl,
who, with bent head and thoughtful
manner, was walking up the path to
her own door, he broke out with:
What was that fellow saying 10
your
"He was talking-of his own af.
fairs, she answered, In her slow, reso.
Lutte way.
"In which you are mutually inter.
ested, l presume" sneered Mcleod.
"Not-altogether. she hesltated yet,
as II uncertain how much to tell.
You are tlirt," said the man,
fiercely. "You deceive me with the
pretense of caring for my society, and
as soon as i am out of sight you allow
another man TO make love to you on the
sly
~ do not" she broke out with one
angry gust of denial; then gathering her
resolute self control about her like a
garment, she shut her teeth firmly to.
gether, gave him one steady, half
scornful look, then walked on to the
house and disappeared.
The rage In the heart Of that proud
young Scot was something terrible.
To be trifled with by the girl he had
chosen from all the world as his favor
lite (ah, how small that "world" was
them, and worse, to see her talking
with another fellow and not know what
she was talking about-to be openly
defled when he demanded an eyplana-
tion-that was too much for human
nature. However" with strong
magnanimity of purpose, che would
give her one more chance to do what
was right by him"
So he hurried home and wrote brief
letter that he considered dignitled,
though 1t was really surly:
Miss Brown: I have twice asked you to ex-
plain your conduct and you have not done so.
give you one moie opportunity. but II do
not hear from you within twenty.four hours l
shall go away from here forever. You know
GREGORY McLEop.
OF course, he received no reply to
this fierce note, and SO, true to his
word, he left Hampton the next day
to lose himself In the wilds of Boston,
and forget the terrible periidy of the
only woman in the world worth low.
ing.
Two years passed before he went
home again. His mother lived u couple
Of miles out from the village, and
knew little of the young people and
their movements. She was sick, too,
dying with consumption; but as she
walked In the garden one day, leaning
on Greg's arm, he asked with some
constraint:
"Is Jason Morrill, at home now2"
"Jason? Oh, nor was the reply.
HE left home long ago-soon after
you did. lie was married against hi,
folks wishes--ran away, / believe
though they do say he has don,
tol'rably well since. Owns mill, !
have heard, som'eres near Boston"
A severe 1T Of coughing broke the
thread of the invalid's rambling talk
and II was never resumed.
She died In few days more, and
Greg, settling the simple details o!
business there, went away with nc
thought of return forever.
And now, only year later, into his
Office In the great whirlpool of New
York, drifted this stray blossom from
the Hampton Hills, not pale and wan
like deserted wife, but fresh aud
rosy, and resolute still, like the only
girl he ever loved.
He smiled when he saw the persist
ent dignity with which she ignored
him, and, returning to business, asked
"Who told you the price for writing
envelopes was S2,5O2"
Mr., Carson, the man who gave
them to me. lie came to my room foI
them last night, and seemed SO much
veXed because they were not done tina
thought | would bring them here to
day
Yes, that Is his little game to make